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The child snorted in a very unladylike fashion. “Thank the good Lord she is not a blood relation.” She lowered her voice. “And she is not going to marry Tom at all. He cannot stand her.”
Alicia moistened her lips. “How do you know? Did my Lord Cavendish tell you this piece of news—or did it float through a keyhole?”
The lass giggled again. “Both. That is why you must marry my brother without delay.”
Alicia pretended to be surprised. “Oh? I am merely the daughter of a goldsmith. How can I marry a great lord?”
The other shrugged her shoulders. “My papa betrothed Thomas to a goldsmith’s daughter years ago. I was weaned on that tale. William often teased poor Tom about it.” She regarded Alicia with a pair of bright blue eyes. “Methinks my papa made a wise choice for him.”
Alicia laughed. “How do you know? Why, you do not even know my name.”
“Mistress Alicia Broom.” The girl shot her a triumphant look.
“My, my, your ears must be overflowing with gossip. I fear you have me at a disadvantage, for I do not know who you are.”
The child swept her flyaway hair out of her eyes, then straightened her posture. “I am Lady Mary Elizabeth Cavendish, so please you.”
Alicia smiled as she inclined her head to Lady Mary. “It pleases me right well to make your acquaintance.”
Mary clapped her hands. “Good! I want us to be friends. Do you like to play games?”
Alicia blinked at the lightning shift in the conversation. “Aye, though it has been a while since I had the opportunity. What sort of games do you have in mind?”
Mary sighed with anticipated pleasure. “Every kind under the sun. Shuttlecock and battledore, hoodman’s bluff, hoops, cards. I love games.” She made a face. “Isabel does not. She is such a mud hen! You must pay her no mind. She only wants Tom to marry her because she wants to be the Countess of Thornbury. She does not love him at all. In fact, she thinks my brother is half-witted.”
“That is a very shameful thing to say, Lady Mary,” Alicia remarked in an offhand manner, though her heart raced under her tight bodice.
The girl did not look the least bit dismayed, but continued to stroke Georgie. “Aye, but I did not say it. Isabel did. I heard her.”
“Through a keyhole, perchance?”
Mary grinned at her. “Aye! How else am I to learn what happens under our roof? No one tells me anything. Was your governess a witch?”
Alicia bit her cheeks to keep from laughing out loud. “I fear that the daughters of goldsmiths do not have governesses, though my…my father taught me to read and write.”
The child sighed. “Lucky you! Mine is Mistress Vive—her real name is Genevieve, but ‘tis a mickle mouthful to say if one is in a hurry. She is utterly a perdition!” Mary flopped over backward with a dramatic groan.
“I am sure that she tries her best.”
The sprite made a rude noise with her lips. “Not so! All she wants to do is nap or eat sweetmeats the livelong day. Every time I look at her, she clicks her tongue at me and tells me that my husband will have to horsewhip me to make me behave.” She snorted. “I am not past twelve years. What do I want with a husband?” Rolling over onto her stomach, she gave Alicia a very shrewd look. “But you will do very well as Tom’s wife. You already like his dogs, and that is half the battle.”
“Tell me something about your brother,” Alicia prompted. She had seen Thomas for only a moment, and she still wasn’t sure if she had pleased or shocked him. Andrew’s assurances had done little to calm her apprehensions.
Mary grinned. “He is the sweetest and gentlest of men. John was nice enough to me, but he was always away on Papa’s business about the estates. William was…a great roaring boy. In plain truth, a bully. I hated him then, but I do miss him now. I never truly wanted him dead.”
“I am sure that you did not,” Alicia soothed.
Mary’s eyebrow rose up. “Oh, I confess, I sometimes thought about it, especially when William got me into trouble with Papa or Mistress Vive, but now…” She gave herself a little shake. “Tom often reads stories to me from one of his books. He plays chess very well, though sometimes I can beat him. He lets me have extra sweetmeats after dinner, and he has a lovely singing voice, though no one hears it but me and the dogs.”
“Why is that?” Alicia breathed.
“He does not like to call attention to himself. William treated Tom shamefully every chance he got. I do not blame Tom for staying out in the woods until all hours, or for finding his dogs better company. Pray, do not be fooled by my brother, Mistress Alicia. ‘Tis all a ruse. He is sparse of words by choice. ‘Tis true, he is very shy among company. But make him lose his temper, and bang!” She clapped her hands, which startled Georgie out of his reverie. “Thomas spews forth such speeches that would make the Archbishop of York faint with surprise.”
Alicia tucked this piece of intelligence away in her memory. “Most interesting.”
A gong sounded in the chamber below them. Its tones reverberated from the stone walls of Wolf Hall.
Mary and Georgie both jumped to their feet. “Supper!” the lass chirped over her shoulder as she and the mastiff hurried out the doorway. “Remember what I said.”
“Aye, ‘tis graven upon my mind.” Rising from the floor, Alicia brushed off stray tawny dog hairs. Lady Mary Cavendish had said quite a lot, she mused as she tightened her braid. She prayed she could remember it all.
Chapter Four (#ulink_465ec21e-f05f-5d1f-9459-f485a90b09f9)
Thomas heard Isabel’s nasal whine before he saw her. She seemed to be particularly prickly tonight.
“Must be my new guest who has set her mind a-whirl,” he muttered to Vixen, who hugged his side as usual. Thomas allowed his fingertips to run along the top of the greyhound’s narrow head. “Not that my Lady Tart-Tongue has much of a mind to disorder. God shield me.”
Vixen licked his fingers in answer. Thomas cast a quick look at her thickening middle. Unfortunately, Vixen was a little too generous with her favors.
“Where is my cushion?” Isabel screeched as Thomas entered the hall. “Why isn’t it at my place? Creamfaced loon!” She delivered a sharp blow to poor Stokes’s nearest ear.
“Hold!” Thomas roared. How dare the little shrew raise her hand to his steward.
Isabel’s sharp fox face smoothed into an expression of pleasure. She swept him a curtsy. He wondered what piece of mischief she brewed now.
“Thomas!” she cooed. “‘Tis a joy to see you looking so fit and fine this evening. I have ordered everything in readiness for your supper. All is prepared—”
His tongue curled with disgust. “Peace, woman!”
In the nine years she had lived at Wolf Hall, Isabel had never lifted a finger or voice to order anything from the kitchen, unless it was a plate of pastries or sweetmeats for her own private enjoyment.
“Tom! Tom!” Mary called from the wide staircase as she half ran, half tumbled down the steps.
Her big brother smiled as he caught her. “What is amiss now? Mistress Vive?” He didn’t know whom he pitied more, his little minx of a sister or her tiresome governess.
“Nay!” Mary laughed as she wriggled out of his grasp. She dropped a fleeting kiss between Vixen’s ears. “You will never guess in two months of Sundays! Alicia knows all sorts of wonderful new games, and she is going to teach me one this very evening after supper.”
Barely hearing the rest of Mary’s excited prattle, Thomas looked up the stairway. Alicia stepped out of the shadow cast by a pillar. He caught his breath. Great Jove! The maid looked even more beautiful than he recalled from their brief afternoon’s meeting. Lifting her skirts a little above her ankles, she descended the stairs in a single fluid motion, like honey rolling down a knife blade. Georgie followed behind her. Her skin glowed in the torchlight, and her hair seemed to have a golden sheen of its own. Thomas realized that he was holding his breath.
When Alicia reached the bottom of the staircase, she dropped a graceful curtsy to him. She shouldn’t do that to me, he thought.
“Oh, there you are!” Isabel’s voice jarred the moment. “The kitchen is through that far door. Tell the cook that I said you may have some bread—and whatever else might be lying about.”
Thomas brushed past his sister-in-law. Anger ignited in his soul. He pressed his lips tighter, lest a harsh word escape them. He offered his arm to the vision of beauty who shimmered before him. He could not think of a thing to say to Alicia that would be appropriate for such a goddess’s ears.
“Thomas!” screeched Isabel. “That woman is not fit for the head table. She’s only a common merchant’s daughter.”
Grinding his teeth, he ignored the wasp in her expensive widow’s weeds.
“Good evening, Sir Thomas,” Alicia murmured as he seated her on his right. “I trust you had a good walk this afternoon?”
Thomas looked into her eyes to see if she mocked him. Instead he felt himself drowning in their sparkling blue depths. Her smile warmed him to his toes.
“Middling.” Without looking directly at her, he pushed their shared trencher a little closer to her.
“Thomas! You have not heard a word I have said!” Isabel plunked herself down on the seat at his left hand.
“Nay, sweet sister-in-law, and he will not hear you until you get the wet cat out of your craw,” Mary retorted across the table.
Isabel seemed to swell in size. Her hands shook. “Children should be silent when in company!”
Mary stuck out her tongue in reply. Several of the castle inhabitants at the lower table tittered at the exchange. Thomas groaned inwardly at this very poor introduction to his family.
Alicia chuckled softly. “I like your little sister very much, my lord. She explained a number of things to me this afternoon.”
He exhaled with relief. When he glanced at her, he saw that her smile had increased in its warmth. “Good,” he muttered.
The devil take me! I should tell her how glad I am that Isabel did not drive her away before my return. How can I possibly apologize for my churlish behavior toward her guardian?
Andrew proffered the first course of the cold supper. “Eels in aspic, my lord?”
Avoiding his squire’s knowing smirk, Thomas regarded the black-and-gray jellied mess on the platter in front of him. His appetite withered at the sight. Why couldn’t Isabel do a better job of the household management—especially in the kitchens?
“Serve the lady first,” he instructed the boy.
Without hesitation, Andrew turned to Alicia. “Eels, mistress? The serving wench assures me that they are fresh—somewhat. I would not swear by the creatures at all, myself, but ‘tis better than starving.”
The cheek of the stripling! How dare he flirt with my bride-to-be? Before Thomas could open his mouth or Alicia could help herself, Isabel lunged across the table and speared the choicest morsel with her silver eating knife.
“Methinks you are sand-blind, Andrew,” she reproached him with a sweetness that dripped poison, “or you have a great deal of wax in your ears. Thomas instructed you to serve the lady first.”
Andrew bestowed her a smile of angelic innocence. “Aye, and so I did, Lady Isabel.”
“Check and double check!” chortled Mary. “Yahoo!”
Infected by Mary’s good spirits, Taverstock barked under the table. Georgie added a note or two in a deep bass. Vixen chose to remain silent, though she made her presence known to Thomas by pressing against his leg. He cut off a small piece of his eel for her. He slipped the morsel under the table—and encountered Alicia’s fingers also holding a tidbit of the slippery fish. He sucked in his breath.
Her gorgeous eyes widened at the contact, though she did not move until Vixen had licked both their fingers clean of the last trace of gray aspic.
Thomas allowed a small grin to ruffle his lips. His skin burned where she had touched him.
Alicia returned his smile with one of her own that seemed to light up the furthermost corner of the gloomy hall. “Your hound must eat well, my lord, if she is to deliver healthy puppies,” she said, her gaze never wavering from his. “I pray your pardon if I have given offense by feeding her while at table.”
His heart swelled within his doublet. It hammered against his chest. “No offense,” he muttered. “On behalf of Vixen, I give you her thanks.”
“Rot!” spat out Isabel. “But what can you expect from an unlettered, common wench?”
“She can read and write,” Mary chirruped while she helped herself to a piece of cold roasted chicken. “Can you, Isabel?”
Thomas grinned behind his hand. He knew that the Earl of Bedford had not bothered to school any of his eleven daughters. Isabel’s father did not consider women’s brains capable of understanding numbers and the alphabet That Alicia could read came as a pleasant surprise.
“’Tis true?” he asked her. “You know your letters?”
“Aye, my lord,” she replied, returning his gaze. “Both Latin and English, and I can cipher accounts as well.”
“She…stretches the truth, methinks,” Isabel sputtered. “She will say or do anything to catch your interest, Thomas. No doubt she lifts her skirts for an empty compliment.”
The color drained from Alicia’s cheeks. Looking down at the trencher, she swallowed. Conversation at the lower table ceased altogether. Even Mary was shocked into silence. Thomas clenched his fist until his arm throbbed.
“You will keep that vicious tongue of yours within your mouth, madam, or I will be compelled to relieve you of it altogether,” he thundered at his sister-in-law.
“I only meant—” Isabel began, but Thomas cut her off.
“You drip poison from every pore, and have broken this evening’s good company,” he continued, his words spewing forth without control. “You will not fling mud at those who partake of my hospitality, and who are under my protection. Since you have forgotten your place in my household, methinks ‘tis time for you to return to your father’s castle.”
He paused as he gulped for air. He looked at the shocked faces around him. Stones and bones, damn his unruly temper! The fair beauty at his side must think she has landed in a nightmare. To keep himself from venting any more spleen, Thomas grabbed a chicken wing and stuffed most of it into his mouth.
“More wine?” Andrew asked cheerfully.
* * *
Isabel’s ears rang with Thomas’s last words. Across the table, Mary grinned at her elder’s discomfort. Plague take the little chit! What the brat needed was a good whipping. Isabel gripped her wine goblet as if she held Alicia’s long neck between her fingers.
Go back to Bedford Chase? Back to the chaos where she would be but one more face around the table? Share her bed with a quarrelsome sister—or two? Isabel gritted her teeth. Never! She choked down the bile that rose in her throat. There must be a way to remain at Wolf Hall, and to turn Thomas’s heart from ice to fire for her. The food in her mouth tasted of ashes, while her thoughts tumbled from one idea to the next. She did not taste the poached pears at the end of the meal. Her preoccupation with her troubles shattered when Thomas suddenly rose.
“Mistress,” he muttered to the thin woman on his right. “Would you like to see the garden?”
The creature laughed, then replied, “‘Twould be a great pleasure, my lord. They do say that the soul of a home is reflected in its garden.”
What drivel! Isabel curled her lips. She must win her way back into Thomas’s good graces this very night, before his threat of banishment hardened into iron resolve.
She forced a light laugh. “You have hit upon the mark, Thomas! ‘Tis a fine evening for a twilight stroll amid the…” Rot it all! What was in bloom at the moment? She hated anything that got her hands dirty, especially mucking in a garden. “Roses!” There had to be roses.
Thomas cast her the briefest of looks. “Start packing,” he snapped. Blue fire flashed in his eyes.
Isabel shivered within her mourning dress. William had often warned her about his younger brother’s temper, but she had rarely seen it in full blast. Now she realized that she should have been more careful. Damn William! Why did he have to die and leave her in such a wretched situation? Wolf Hall was her domain by right.
Before she could utter another word, Thomas and the woman swept from the hall. The pack of hounds followed behind him, as usual. Mary sniggered.
“Do you need help, Isabel?” she asked with illcontained glee. “Methinks ‘twill take you all night to fill your trunks with your finery.”
Leaning over the table, Isabel glared at the horrid child. “If you do not leave the hall this minute, I will pluck out your hairs one by one until you are bald!”
It gave her satisfaction to see the brat pale. Without another word, Mary rose, then dashed up the stairs. At the landing, she paused.
“Since I expect you to be long gone before I wake up tomorrow, sister-in-law, I wish you a pleasant journey. May your way be plagued with ruts and rain!” she yelled. As a final insult, the little wretch stuck out her tongue. The servants clearing the tables did not bother to conceal their grins.
“May your bed be filled with lice!” Isabel retorted after Mary’s fleeing figure.
